Incoherent Ramblings of a Crazy Bitch

It's ok to laugh, that shit's funny!

I Should Stab You With A Fucking Fork — December 25, 2014

I Should Stab You With A Fucking Fork

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I’m really not a Christmas person. Kind of detest it if you ask. This year I didn’t even put a tree up. Now I know what most of you are thinking, how in the world can anyone hate Christmas? Well Christmas has never been a fun filled holiday for me. It brings back nightmares of my grandma giving me training bras. HAHA. Actually looking back, I wish my Christmas’s were filled with training bras. It would be better than the shit I get now.

I had been dating this guy for quite awhile, long enough to think maybe I’d get some bling bling for Christmas, maybe lingerie, expensive perfume, something nice. At least take my kids out to pick out a gift for me. Well Christmas morning comes and my kids are opening their gifts, I give this guy his presents. I always go overboard with not only my kids, but anyone I’m dating. So I had bought this guy about 10 things, really fucking nice ones spent about $500 on him. With each gift he got as excited as a kid. Then it’s my turn.

He sits down beside me and hands me this package. One present. But I’m not greedy; it’s the thought that counts right? Well it was too big for jewelry and too heavy for lingerie. I like all sorts of things so I’m shaking it, trying to guess. What could it be? I slowly unwrap it, getting excited while I do. And open a package of fucking silverware. NO I’m not joking. This mother fucker gave me silverware for our first Christmas together. I sat there just stunned. I was so hurt and so pissed I can’t even describe it. So I ask “Why the fuck would you give me silverware?” His response “Well I can never find a fork when I’m here.” So I tell him “If you want to give someone fucking silverware you hand it to them any old day of the week and say “here baby I was thinking of you” you don’t wrap it as a Christmas gift! Especially your first Christmas together!”

So to break it down in a clearer perspective, he got very thoughtful gifts and I was given a package of twenty dollar silverware. This man made almost $20 an hour, no kids, no ex-wife, no house so he had money and he couldn’t even throw in pans with the Goddamn silverware. I should have stabbed him in the damn eye with a fork. No wonder why I hate dating. Men are fucking morons

SMACK IT, SMACK IT GOOD! — December 24, 2014

SMACK IT, SMACK IT GOOD!

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Considering I’m 41 and lost my virginity when I was 15 it’s safe to say I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit over the years. But there is one sexual experience in particular that not only makes me burst out laughing, but I also get confused at the same time. You know the kind of thing I’m talking about right? Where something is so outrageous that you can’t help but laugh.

I had been dating this guy for a little while so I didn’t think he could shock me. But one night in bed we were having a little, hmm, shall we say, “problem”. As men age there is a variety of reasons why they might not be able to get hard. Could be testosterone, blood pressure, cholesterol, shit just because he’s tired could cause it. Unfortunately it wasn’t the first time I’ve ran into it with this man or, well, other men. But whatever, you just have to play with it a little. That usually helps.

We were making out and trying a little rub rub, lick lick, but nothing was working. Now usually I could at least get him semi hard but on this particular night there was nothing. So I assured him it was ok, no problem, and shit like that happens. All of a sudden he sat up on his knees and started smacking his dick!

I am not even fucking joking. There’s this dude, kneeling over me smacking his cock over and over with an open hand. Cock and balls just jiggling away as he’s going to town on himself. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I’m in shock of course and shout, “What the fuck are you doing?!?!?!?!” And he replies, “I’m trying to get it hard.” Now I’ve seen a lot of crazy ways of getting a dick hard but I’ve never seen a guy literally smack the shit outa his dick.

So he’s kneeling there smacking away, with tears in his eyes. I can only assume he was starting to cry because that had to hurt. But he started saying, “look it’s working!” and got really excited about it. Now I personally didn’t see a difference, except maybe his cock was getting red. But I was trying to figure out and exit strategy so maybe I just didn’t notice. I was so mortified at the whole situation I lost whatever desire for sex I had. But he was starting to get really into it. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Then the fucker grabbed my hand and started trying to smack his dick with MY fucking hand!

Oh, I wasn’t having any of that shit. Some people may get into that crazy sadism and masochism stuff, but not me. I snatched my hand back as if his dick burned me and told him he was a crazy fucker. Of course whatever halfhearted erection he had at that point went away so sex was definitely a no go. As if it was still an option. Once you watch a man smack his dick like he was trying to kill it you start to wonder what else he might do. Needless to say the relationship didn’t last much longer. And for that I’m glad. I mean what else was in my future, nipple clamps? Cock rings? Butt plugs? Fuck that shit.

I don’t need no stinking purse. — December 23, 2014

I don’t need no stinking purse.

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As most of my friends know, I detest carrying a purse. Always have. Lugging those things around filled with crap we will probably never use. But just in case we need it, a band aid, aspirin, tampon, pen, paper, lip gloss, candy for the crying kids, extra keys, and God knows what else. Trust me purses are a pain in the ass. For many years I refused to carry one. Lip-gloss in my front pocket, money in my right, drivers license in my back pocket. This hot babe was all set. Well then I started carrying a credit card, then two, then a library card. Finally I decided to start carrying a wallet.

It wasn’t a big leather one attached to a chain but a cute little one with a flower. But a wallet never the less. I carried that sucker around in my back pocket and still strutted like a hot babe. Of course men never asked me out. Huh, I never knew why. One weekend Dawn and I went to Kings Island and she started calling me butch. Would I give up my wallet? Hell no! Kris started telling me I looked like I was gay. I didn’t care, I love gay people! Everyone knew I was straight; I’m a hot babe on the prowl!

Well one night Kathi and I went to the casino. We stayed over night because I had a free hotel room. So we went to the casino and gambled. I like to play poker so while Kathi played slots I sat at the tables all night. The next morning I hit the tables again. I’m pulling out my wallet and throwing money on the tables. Kathi comes over and tells me we have to go. So I call the pit boss over and ask him if he can push our room check out for another hour. Considering how much I lost, you bet they did. So Kathi goes off to play the slots again. After a bit she comes back and she’s starting to get louder “Erica! We are leaving now, come on!” I kept saying just a bit more. So she left again.

It wasn’t until the dealer asked me where my girlfriend went that it dawned on me, huh, they think I’m gay. Damn, that must make me the guy. I was the one with the wallet and the foot stamping girlfriend after all. So a bit after that I gave up my wallet and started carrying a purse. Now I have that stupid thing crammed with crap. Might even have to get a bigger size. Damn I miss my wallet. Then again once the wallet was gone and purse on my arm guys did start asking me out HAHAHAHAHA

LOOK A SNOW ANGEL! — December 22, 2014

LOOK A SNOW ANGEL!

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A few winters ago we were getting lots of snow and ice. One day it was really icy out so I decided I better start my car and let it heat up before I left for work. Well I get out of the shower and figure I’ll go out then so it’s warming up while I finished getting dressed. I throw on my fluffy pink robe and my black clunky boots and run outside. As soon as my foot hits my icy concrete front steps WOOOSH my legs fly right out from under me and not only do I land on my back I kind of slide down a few steps too.

So there I’m laying arms and legs spread out wide and I realize my robe is wide open. I’m almost as naked as the day I was born, at least my feet and arms were covered. But I was too stunned to move. I live on the corner of a fairly busy street and just remember this is in the morning so people are going to work. I didn’t hear any cars though, so maybe I got lucky. Since I hit my back I couldn’t move for a few seconds. After waiting a moment (felt like forever) and lying in the freezing cold, I could finally move. I slowly closed my robe, sat up and when I finally felt my legs could hold me, I stood up.

Then I had to find my damn keys that had flown out of my hand. I sheepishly looked around and thanked the good Lord I didn’t think anyone saw me. At least I hoped they didn’t! I realized even if they had they probably weren’t going to come to my aid. I ended up with a huge bruise on my arm and my butt along with some road rash. And let me tell you I’ll never run outside in just a robe again. Ok I lied, I already have HAHAHAHAHA

Don’t Judge, It Was Cookie Cottage — December 21, 2014

Don’t Judge, It Was Cookie Cottage

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Anyone who knows me knows I have food issues. I wish I was joking but I seriously think I need therapy. There’s been many times that I threw something away at home only to grab it from the top of the trash later. Such as a half-eaten candy bar, stale chips, etc. There was even one time that Conrad was eating an ice cream cone, the kind with the chocolate in the bottom. He hadn’t eaten all of it and said he was done and tossed it in the trash. Well I snatched that sucker up and bit the bottom off. Hell there was a night I was at dinner with some friends and not only did I finish my margarita, my friend’s margarita’s, but the one girl had brought someone I didn’t even know and I’ll be damned if I didn’t finish theirs also! Ok, that might be more of a drinking problem than a food problem.

 Several years ago I worked for this company that would once in a while bring us in treats. Sometimes it would be lunch, maybe popcorn, all kinds of goodies. Well one day they gave us Cookie Cottage cookies. I love these cookies soooo much that I don’t even share them with my children. We were each given two cookies and I scarfed mine in a heartbeat. Later that day I went to the restroom, did my business and washed my hands. When I walked over to the paper towel dispenser I noticed right on top of the trash there was a cookie. Not just any cookie…a Cookie Cottage cookie! It still had the wax paper around it. So I looked around and there wasn’t anyone else in there with me. My mind kept telling me not to do it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I slowly reached into the trash, hating myself the whole time, and picked up the cookie.

 Still looking around to make sure no one came in, I removed the wax paper, my mouth was already watering. Well just my luck the damn thing was a plain sugar cookie and it had a big bite taken out of it. So I tossed it back into the trash and turned around only to find myself looking right into the mirror. And that’s when the horror of what I had just done came rushing in. “My God, did I really just take a cookie from the trash at work? In the bathroom!?!?!?!” I said out loud. Humiliated I ran back to my desk hoping no one at work realized what I had almost done. Thankfully it wasn’t a chocolate chip cookie, because honestly, I would have eaten the damn thing. HAHAHAHAHAHA

 

A Side of Puke With Those Pants Please — December 20, 2014

A Side of Puke With Those Pants Please

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I don’t know about any of you but when I have an important interview nothing makes me feel more confident than a new outfit. Since I’m cheap as Hell I tend to shop clearance and discount stores. A few years ago I had an interview coming up and I decided to go to Fort Wayne and check out the used clothing stores. Usually I don’t try clothes on in the store but I wanted to get a couple of pantsuits and I needed to make sure they fit right.

After trying on a few things I couldn’t find a pantsuit I really liked.  I noticed a rack outside of the dressing room with stuff that people had tried on and decided to look at it.  On it I saw a black pantsuit with pants, skirt and jacket in just my size. Cool I thought, but I should try it on. So I try the skirt and jacket on and thought well “I’m not sure maybe I should try the pants too”. So I put my left leg in the pants, and start to put my right leg in. I don’t know what possessed me to look down. But right in the crotch area of the pants was this white stuff. I’m thinking, “What the Hell is that?” I have pretty bad eyesight so I take the pants off and bring the pants up closer to take a better look. Then it hit me “FUCKING DISCHARGE” gagging. Nasty, white, crusty pussy discharge from some sick bitch was almost touching me.

I dropped the pants, didn’t even hang them up. I left those nasty fuckers on the dressing room floor. Then I threw on my own pants and ran out of there. I kept thinking about what nasty fucking bitch might have worn them. Either the sick bitch that donated them wore them with no panties and dropped them off or some sick twisted freak tried them on with no panties. Both are just as bad in my mind.

Either way I was totally grossed out the entire day and it made me want to puke. It also made me wonder about the other clothes I tried on, that just started me retching again.  God, why didn’t I check those pants also! To be honest I haven’t bought anything from that particular used store since then. I’m still cheap (and poor) so I do buy used, but now no matter where I shop I check the clothes over before I put them on.

I Think I Drank Too Much — December 19, 2014

I Think I Drank Too Much

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There was one weekend that I had a date set up for a Saturday night. Well the Friday before I decide to go out with some friends. We started slamming drinks right away. I drank 3 liquid cocaine shots, 3 B52 chaser shots, then sipped a mixed drink. All of this in an hour. We had drinks lined up on the bar. Before I knew it the girl I was there with was puking in the bathroom. As I’m thinking that’s funny as Hell I notice some asshole I used to date. I’m not going to get into why he’s an asshole right now but I do want to say I went up to him to speak my mind. In my drunken state I proceed to tell him, “You should thank God I even gave you the time of day!” At which point I fell straight back onto the bar floor. Not crumpled or tripped, but fell like a damn tree. This guy just looks at me and walks away. Not my finest moment.

Luckily someone takes pity on my sorry ass and takes me to the bathroom. If you’ve never noticed the toilet bowel at a bar be glad, very glad. My face was inches away from urine splashes and pubic hair. Hell in this town I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t crabs also. Well it takes two women to keep me from drowning in the toilet. One holding my head up and one holding my body. By this time I had lost the ability to move. I could hear what people were saying but I couldn’t talk, move, blink, I’m lucky I could breath. The guy I was supposed to go out with the next night happened to be there. So one of the girls who were holding my head out of the toilet goes and gets him.

Now remember this guy and I had yet to even had our first date. I still cannot move a muscle although I could hear clearly. So anyway this guy grabs me under my arms while another guy grabs my legs. My shirt is riding up, everyone can see my bra, and my shoe fell off. And they carry me out the back door of the bar. It’s winter time, snow on the ground, cold as Hell. The guy carrying my legs said “Are you sure she’s alive? I don’t want to get in trouble for disposing of a body.” So my future date guy decides to lay me down in the snow, no coat, shirt up to my neck, only one shoe and starts to throw snow on me. I still couldn’t move. In my mind I’m thinking it’s cold as fuck but I was so drunk I couldn’t open my yes. Once they determined I was alive they picked me back up and threw me in this guy’s car and he takes me home.

I wish I could say he swept me in his big 6’2″ strong arms and carried me inside. Instead he drug me across the ground and snow all the way into the apartment building and directly into my bathroom (the next day he told me I was too heavy). The girlfriend who was with me covered me up and proceeded to take the obligatory drunk pics. My date guy left and I hugged the damn toilet all night. Puked my guts up, shit my pants, and ended up laying half in the bathroom and in the hallway. My older son had a friend who spent the night and when his mom came to get him the next night I was a pretty sight.

From my front door you could see right down the hallway and there I lay half in and half out of the bathroom. Her son had to actually step over my body to leave. I felt like I was dying. But you know, I still made it out on my date that night. Of course I found out later that after this guy had dropped me off (literally) he then went and spent the night with some other woman. I actually dated him for a year. Don’t judge, there’s not a lot of choices in this town, he had a job and teeth and my ass is heavy HAHAHAHAHA

SIDE EFFECTS—Alli Alli OOPS — December 18, 2014

SIDE EFFECTS—Alli Alli OOPS

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After I had my first son I had some nice curves and my boobs were still a bit perky. If anything, having him enhanced my body. My second son fucked my shit up. Not only did I gain the normal (for me anyway) 30 pounds of pregnancy weight but I gained about 20 more AFTER I had him. Since my ass is too lazy to diet or exercise I’m always looking for a quick fix pill.

Of course I’m ashamed to say I tried the whole laxative thing. That just gave me sever cramps. There was a prescription that my doctor was willing to give me but he would only give me 30 days at a time. Like I said, I’m lazy and I didn’t want to make an appointment every month. So after looking at the shelf at Walmart I found the diet pill Alli. All medicines have side effects, some more common than others. I didn’t take the time to read all of it. It’s all the same really. Or is it? My ass should have read the box. No seriously, my ass should have.

Day one on the pills I didn’t have any issues and felt pretty good. Great! So I kept taking them. Day two I was sitting on the recliner in front of my computer desk just typing away on the internet. I had just finished eating my McD’s and simply adjusted myself in my chair. All of a sudden it felt like I pissed myself. Not shit myself, pissed myself because I was suddenly all wet. I’m thinking, “What the fuck!” and looked between my legs. The whole seat of my sweats and the chair was wet!

I tried like vain to keep my ass cheeks together as I tiptoed to the bathroom. Every step I took resulted in shit or piss running down my leg, Hell I didn’t know which. When I sat down on the toilet I noticed there wasn’t any crap in my pants, just some weird thick fluid. So I looked between my legs. Yes I know that’s disgusting but I thought I was dying and wanted to see what was going on. There was this orange oil pouring from my ass. Not shit, but oil, fucking orange oil. I’ll never forget seeing this bright orange fluid. Think of Dayquil people. It looked like Dayquil coming outta my ass. What the fuck!?

Once I quit freaking out I had to throw away my underwear and sweatpants. Clean my oily ass and the toilet, because that oil was stuck to the sides. And then clean my recliner (which left a stain by the way). I went to actually read the side effects completely for Alli. It seems that what this med does is prevent your body from processing fat. So when you eat fatty foods this fat will either cause gastrointestinal issues, more frequent stools, or an oily anal leakage. Well no shit.

I wasn’t about to change my diet, I really like bad food. So I quit taking the pills. But now I’m stuck with these love handles and Buddha belly. I mean I don’t look too bad. Of course, that’s with my clothes on. I’m still searching for that magic pill. Maybe I’m just stuck with my fat ass. Then again I did see a Groupon for something called Lipo Lite. Hmmmm, wonder what that is.

AS SEEN ON TV—My Tit Hurts — December 17, 2014

AS SEEN ON TV—My Tit Hurts

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Back when I was 18 I drove over to Van Wert and paid 55 bucks to get a heart and rose tattoo on my right breast. Over the years it became more of an inkblot test than a heart. I’m serious! The blue, purple and green just blended together. Anytime I wore a shirt that had a little cleavage you could see it. I would have people ask me “Oh you have a tattoo! Um what is it?” So after about 15 years of this I decided to get it removed.

Laser removal is just so expensive. And I didn’t just want to cover it up, I wanted it gone. Since I’m such a cheap ass I decided to see what else I could find. So I did some research on the internet and tried to see what they had. I knew there were all kinds of “As Seen On Tv” types of products, they are everywhere now. I finally found this product that you are to rub on the tattoo and after so many applications the tattoo would be removed. It cost about $40 so that was right up my alley. I paid my money and waited for the bottle to arrive.

After about a week I received a couple of little brown bottles with some instructions. There was this one bottle that I was to brush on the tattoo and then another bottle I was to mix with baking soda and then put that on after about a minute. Anyone that knows me knows I don’t cook so the chances of me having baking soda were slim. I looked in the cupboard and of course I didn’t have any, but I did have corn starch. Has to be the same stuff, right?

So I put the first liquid on. After a minute or two I put my corn starch mixture on. After about another minute I felt like my tit was on fire!!!! I can’t even explain the pain I felt. Even after rinsing the shit off it wouldn’t stop burning. My breast was completely red and the tattoo area was hideous looking. For about a week I tried treating the damn thing with Neosporin, covered it, left it uncovered, anything I could think of. But nothing worked.

My breast kept getting worse and worse. It was swollen and so sore I couldn’t sleep. The area where I had put this shit was all red, pussy and tender to the touch. Even a bra and shirt hurt. One night at the bar I showed it to a couple of my friends and they remarked how painful it looked. After being in pain for about a week I couldn’t take it anymore.

I made an appointment at my doctor’s office as soon as I could. As you know when you make an appointment you have to explain to the nurse that comes in first, “Um ya, I bought some stuff off the internet to take my tattoo off and I think I might be having a reaction to it because it hurts really bad.” She took one look at it was you could see the look on her face thinking, “DAMN what the Hell did she do!” She leaves and a few minutes later in comes the doctor. Again I had to explain what happened, “Um ya, I bought some stuff off the internet to take my tattoo off and I think I might be having a reaction to it because it hurts really bad.”

Since my thought was I was having an allergic reaction I brought the bottles in with me. So I handed them to Dr. Johnson to take a look at. He took one look at those bottles, laughed, shook his head and said, “You can buy this at any pool supply store.” Turns out I was putting pool chemicals on my tit and was now suffering from a 2nd degree burn. He then proceeded to educate me about buying shit from the internet and if I really wanted the tattoo gone I should get it lasered off. Or I could do what they did in the Navy, rubbed sandpaper or salt until the tattoo was a bloody mess. Let it heal then do it again. Told him I thought I’d pass on that.

Leaving that office as the nurses snickered when I passed the front desk was worse than I could imagine a walk of shame would be. HIPAA my ass. Of course I can’t blame them. If some chick came in with her tit looking like it was caught on fire I’d share too. So yes, lessoned learned. Then again, I do have some skin tags I want to remove and the dermatologist is quite expensive…

I Think I Need A Mattress, Size Large — December 16, 2014

I Think I Need A Mattress, Size Large

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Now as every woman knows from a very young age we need to be prepared for “aunt flow”, “our monthly gift”, or just plain ol’ our period. I can remember sitting in Spanish class, had my legs all jacked up on my desk, all spread, bent over to pick something up and there’s this huge red spot on my crotch. Of course during these moments I never seemed to have a tampon or a pad. In a pinch you can roll toilet paper up like a makeshift pad until you can run and get a tampon or real pad. I think every girl/woman has run into this situation at least once. At least I know I’ve been in the bathroom minding my own business and I’ve heard someone yelling, “Anyone have a tampon!” Even my sister told me about a girl she went to school with who was wearing white pants when nature struck. So see it does happen, and I’m sure many of you ladies have similar stories.

Yes my dear friends, years and years of this lovely thing called womanhood had taught us to always be prepared. NOT. One summer the kids and I were on our way home from Kings Island and Conrad had had to go potty. So we pull over to a gas station and me and Conrad go inside. Since he was pretty little we go into the ladies together. It was one of those one toilet deals so Conrad tinkles then I go to sit down. Well lo and behold I was a bloody mess, right through my jean shorts too! I was thinking what the Hell, looked in my purse, no tampons. No machine in the bathroom. So there I was 35 years old rolling a wad of toilet paper up and putting it in my underwear like a makeshift pad (not the most comfortable feeling and it sticks to you). I’m sitting there wondering how the heck I was going to walk through the gas station without getting noticed. Suddenly I get startled by this person trying the damn doorknob and knocking. “Occupied!” I yell, knowing I can’t stay in there forever.

After taking a whores bath with paper towels and hand soap I start checking myself in the mirror. I wanted to check how noticeable the big bloody spot was between my legs. I look at the front, the back, not too bad. As long as I don’t bleed any more that is. Of course Conrad thinks I’m a loon and wondering why the Hell I put toilet paper in my underwear. “Don’t worry about it honey it’s a mommy thing.” So I waddle out to the store hoping I don’t have a bloody wad of toilet paper suddenly fall out of my jean shorts onto the floor. I buy what I need and Conrad and I go back into the bathroom. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig and I’m wondering if I should have went with an industrial grade pad instead of a tampon but I wasn’t about to go back out there and buy pads. The cashier would have to start wondering what the fuck I was doing. So I plug that shit up and I rush outside. We jump back in the vehicle and I hope to God I don’t bleed through on the rest of the ride home. Ya, no such luck. By the time I got home and into the bathroom I was a bloody mess. My panties were a loss, my jean shorts were a loss. I was beginning to wonder if I should go check the seat of the car.

So I’ve learned dear friends, no matter if my period is coming or not I’m gonna carry a tampon. It’s always good to be prepared, and who the hell knows some day there might be someone in the stall next to me that realizes they are in desperate need of a plug. Next time my ass, or crotch I should say, will be prepared. If not, well, I guess I can always make a toilet paper ball the size of my fist and hope for the best. HAHA